The summit lurches again. Loose stone skitters into the black drop beyond the broken wall as the Hooded Stranger closes in, one hand lifted toward the humming glass key.

The Old Hermit strains uselessly inside the cage of light, his face white with panic. Then a new voice cuts through the wind, sharp and certain.

A lean woman in travel-dark leathers emerges from the stairwell, a coil of rope over one shoulder and chalk dust on her hands. She plants her boots wide on the fractured tiles and sights the Stranger with hard, practical focus.

The Stranger hesitates at the name, then shifts his weight, choosing caution over a blind lunge. Bren points once toward the gap in the masonry, already bracing for the next tremor.

For a heartbeat, the path to escape opens.

Kynes snaps his staff up and calls the storm into his palm. Blue-white lightning lashes across the gap and catches the Hooded Stranger square in the chest, hurling them backward in a spray of sparks and torn cloak.

The glass key flies free, spinning low over the fractured tiles as the Stranger crashes into a stone buttress and slides out of the way, stunned.

Bren lunges in, rope ready, and catches the key with one hand before it can skitter into the abyss. Wind howls through the broken west arch, but the route beneath it stands open.

Another shudder rolls through the summit. Dust rains from the ceiling, and the cage of light around the hermit flickers as the floor groans under Kynes's feet.